Chasing Ancestors Across the Heartland - A Family History Road Trip: Part III

My week-long visit with my parents in Colorado - who I hadn't seen in over a year due to the pandemic - ended too quickly and it was soon time to drive the more than 2,000 miles home.

The westward journey had covered thousands of miles with stops at 12 cemeteries to honor the mortal resting place of dozens of my kinfolk [see A Family History Road Trip Part I and Part II]. For the trip back east, I mapped out a return route that would take me to new territory covering 11 cemeteries in four states where I could pay my respects at the graves of 25 of my direct ancestors - people who, without any one of them, I wouldn't exist. In that regard, I suppose this was my existential road trip. Join me for the concluding chapter of my family history road trip.

Pleading With the Great Beyond

I made an early morning departure and drove into the rising sun, passing into Nebraska. Along the highway, farm fields were being harvested. Enormous machines shucked the grain and corn as a cloud of dust blew across the road kicking my allergies into full throttle. It was a beautiful season to drive across America as leaves burst into autumn's fiery ambers, auburns and torchlight red.   

Lincoln, Nebraska was my stop for the first night. I arrived with plenty of daylight to spare, so continued on to Eagle Cemetery where my fifth great-grandfather Darwin Andrus (1811-1882) is buried. His son, my fourth great-grandfather, Jerome Andrus is a bit of a mystery. He disappeared from the paper trail after the untimely death of his maybe wife and the subsequent adoption of their daughter (my third great-grandmother Mary Jane). I don't know with any certainty where the final chapters of Jerome's life concluded. Naturally, I did what any rational genealogist of sound mind would do and pleaded at Darwin's grave for a divine research assist from the great beyond. I'm still waiting on a response.

Darwin Andrus, Eagle Cemetery, Nebraska

Ping-ponging Across Iowa

I made an early start to get a jump on my ambitious plans for day two. I wanted to visit six cemeteries dotted across Iowa. My first stop was Sunny Hill Cemetery in Grimes - a suburb of Des Moines. My third-great grandparents James and Hester (Griffith) Kirk are buried picturesquely beneath two trees with large mature trunks. A badly weathered obelisk includes their names and biodata, and the site of their individual burials are marked with granite stones, labeled Mother and Father, positioned like a footnote.   

James and Hester (Griffith) Kirk, Sunny Hill Cemetery, Grimes, Iowa

This was my first time to see James' burial. I've been to the graves for all of my other direct paternal line ancestors (through Thomas Kirk, my fifth great-grandfather), so this visit felt like a homecoming long in the making or filling a missing link. During visits to the other Kirk men on this road trip, I collected offerings in anticipation of this stop. In Ohio, I gathered walnut husks that had fallen onto the grave of Vachel Kirk - James' father - and in Colorado, I picked up pinecones that had fallen onto the grave of William Kirk, James' son (and my second great-grandfather). I placed the husks and pinecones like tokens at James' marker - offerings that united the patrilineal line spread across the United States.

James Kirk's grave with walnut husks from his father Vachel's grave in Ohio
and pinecones from his son William's grave in Colorado.

While I would have loved to linger and meditate over James' life, the day's ambitions were at odds with the clock. Jumping in the car, I drove to nearby Saint Ambrose Cemetery in Des Moines. I believe my third great-grandparents John and Margaret (Fahey) Flynn were laid to rest in the Catholic burial grounds. An 1881 Iowa death record states that John was buried in the "Catholic Cemetery," which was, in that year, St. Ambrose. Sadly, no marker survives (if one was ever placed) and the cemetery's burial records are spotty and don't name either one. I did, however, find the grave for John's brother Michael, who, for a period of time, was the guardian for the orphaned Flynn children. In a genealogical boon to the likely origins for my Flynns, Michael's stone states that he was "Born in Co. Clare, Ireland."

The grave of Michael Flynn, brother to my third-great-grandfather John Flynn
St. Ambrose Cemetery, Des Moines, Iowa

Back in the car, I drove 25 miles southwest to Ackworth, Iowa where a small Quaker churchyard is the resting place of four ancestors. The land for the cemetery was gifted from property owned by my fifth great-grandparents Mahlon and Mary (Hockett) Haworth. Their burial on Quaker ground suggests they came full circle from when Mahlon was "disowned" in 1829 by his Quaker brethren in Indiana for "marrying contrary to the faith." Mary was not a member of the Society of Friends and, apparently, unwilling to convert. Mahlon followed his heart and married her anyway. They eventually migrated to Iowa where Mary died in January 1871 and was buried (on Quaker ground strongly suggesting she eventually united with the faith).

Mary (Hockett) Haworth, Ackworth Cemetery, Iowa

The graves for Mary (Hockett) Haworth's daughter-in-law (my fourth great-grandmother), Mary Emily (Hadley) Haworth and her parents (my fifth great-grandparents) Abel and Jane (Cox) Hadley are also in the churchyard. I paid my respects under the curious glances of the teenaged crew mowing the lawn around me.

Mary Emily (Hadley) Haworth

Abel Hadley, father to Mary Emily (Hadley) Haworth

Jane (Cox) Hadley, wife of Abel and mother of Mary Emily (Hadley) Haworth

Wasting no time, I drove the 90 miles northeast to Ohio Cemetery just south of Ladora, Iowa. Surrounded on all sides by farmland and towering modern-day windmills, the cemetery is the final resting place for my fourth great-grandparents John and Nancy (Rosenberger) Bair and Nancy's parents John and Catherine (Schall) Rosenberger (who were donors of the land for the cemetery). 

According to a family history, John Bair died in 1857 at the age of 33 after he "fell from a hay stack and broke his spine while making hay on the Old State Road." I cannot even begin to fathom the horror of enduring a spinal cord injury in the mid-19th century. John's name is inscribed on a single headstone with his wife and her second husband John Clyde.

John Bair's grave (marked with the smaller marker at far left) and his wife
Nancy Catherine (Rosenberger) Bair Clyde buried at the large marker at center.

John and Catherine (Schall) Rosenberger

With 75 miles between me and my next step, I raced the afternoon sun south to Heidlebaugh Cemetery. Located on private land, this was one of the more challenging cemeteries to get to. After I crossed the Des Moines River, the road became a bumpy gravel road kicking up swirling clouds of dust in my wake. Ten miles later, I pulled into a densely tree-covered graveyard as the last dregs of afternoon light cast paltry shadows on the aged stones. My fifth great-grandmother, Abigail (Gould) Rogers, died in 1882. Just like the headstone for her daughter Sophronia, whose grave I saw earlier in the road trip (see Part II), Abigail's headstone is broken in two. Someone gently leaned the marker against its fractured base.

Abigail (Gould) Rogers

The sun was now setting and my stop for the evening was still 70 miles to the west in Burlington, Iowa - nestled along the Mississippi River. As I sped along country roads praying no deer decided to jump on the hood of my car, I conceded defeat - my last Iowa cemetery stop would have to wait until the morning. 

I believe Concord Cemetery in Louisa County, Iowa is the likely burial place for my fourth great-grandmother Jane (Delzell) Kirk who died in 1886. Her son, who she lived with in Iowa, was buried in the cemetery according to his obituary. Although there's no marker for his grave and no sign of a burial for Jane, I made it my last stop before leaving Iowa (see the video tour below). As I left the cemetery, driving down the grassy road, three deer jumped in front of my car and darted into the hedges. Jane sending me a sign, no doubt, that she appreciated my visit. 

Kentucky Kinfolk

After my morning tour of the Concord Cemetery, I spent the rest of the day driving across Illinois, Indiana and stopping for the night in Lexington, Kentucky. I was getting road weary. The following morning, I dipped into Kentucky coal country to visit my ancestors in Morgan County.

Southfork Cemetery is the burial place for six of my ancestors although headstones survive for only three of them, including fifth great-grandparents John and Jane (Porter) Barker and Revolutionary War veteran Ambrose Jones (another fifth great-grandfather). Unmarked are the graves for Ambrose's wife Martha (Craig) Jones, and Joseph and Priscilla (Barker) Lumpkins. Priscilla was the daughter of John and Jane Barker. Sadly, many of the stones - including John Barker's - are toppled over and most of their inscriptions have worn away. The wind was vicious, ripping tiny acorns from the branches overhead. The tiny nuts kept lashing against my face in their violent plummets to the ground. Note to self, I thought, bring a helmet next time.

John Barker (left) and his wife Jane (Porter) Barker (right)

Ambrose Jones

My last stop in Kentucky was the Howerton Cemetery, located on private land, and the final resting place of my fourth great-grandparents John and Barberry (Jones) Howerton. Barberry was the daughter of Ambrose. 

I'll admit in brief passing that a wrong turn down a narrow single-lane country road proved a sweat-inducing stressful delay as I valiantly tried to turn my car around. Like steering the Titanic, I inched backwards and forwards in a series of maneuvers as I slowly made a 180 degree about-face on a steep road and came perilously close to plunging over the hillside. Disaster averted, I found my Howerton grandparents and thanked them for the otherworldly assist I'm sure they provided.

In a beautifully well-kept cemetery, John Howerton's headstone was recently cleaned and brought to its original gleaming white. Beside him, in a grave marked with a jagged headstone and footstone, is the likely grave for his wife Barberry.

John Howerton, left, and likely his wife, Barberry (Jones) Howerton at right

Ohio Conclusion

The homestretch saw me swing up through Ohio for two final cemeteries. First was the Miller Cemetery located in southern Ohio near the Ohio River. 

Ohio River near Gallipolis, Ohio

I pulled into the Miller Cemetery and drove past the many recent graves to the tree-lined boundary where I could see older headstones. My fourth great-grandfather, John Benedick, was buried in the cemetery after his death in 1863 at the age of 57. When I found his stone, I texted a photo to my aunt in Kansas. She immediately noted a similarity between John's stone and that of his widow, Mary Ann (Miser) Benedick, who is buried in Plainville, Kansas. Both markers feature a symbolic hand with a single finger gesturing heavenward. Perhaps it was something Mary desired that both of their headstones share in common when she died 38 years later.

John Benedick, Miller Cemetery, Ohio

Mary Ann (Miser) Benedick, widow of John Benedick, buried in Plainville, Kansas

The final stop for the road trip was Zion Cemetery in Hopedale, Ohio. I had a heck of a time locating the cemetery. I was so deep in the country that my cell phone kept losing its signal and the GPS would stall. Finally, as I crested a hill, just enough of a signal hit the device and directed me to graveyard. I pulled into a gravel path and trudged across the lawn strewn with fallen leaves. 

My fifth great-grandparents Andrew and Elizabeth (Sailor) Miser - parents to the abovementioned Mary Ann (Miser) Benedick - are buried here. Their stones are wide and tower over many of the other markers. I stood next to Elizabeth's headstone, which sadly has lost much of its inscription to the stone's façade shedding away, and marked its high point at my shoulder. Someone has placed a newer granite slab at the base of the stones with their biodata more legible. 

I sank my artificial floral offering into the earth as gusts of wind blew through the trees creating a wonderful autumn percussion and sending whirls of leaves tumbling around me. If I wasn't a family historian with an affinity for traipsing through graveyards, I might have called it a haunting scene just in time for Halloween. 

Andrew, at right, and Elizabeth (Sailor) Miser, at left

The solitude and opportunity to commune with each of my ancestors at their graves - scattered across the country - was the journey of a lifetime. I count myself fortunate that I was able to make the trip and do it safely amid the pandemic. 

But it was definitely a long time to be on the road alone. I was grateful when I arrived home later that afternoon and was able to finally sleep in my own bed and dream of the many lives that came before my own.

Chasing Ancestors Across the Heartland - A Family History Road Trip: Part II

I hadn't seen my parents in more than a year due to the pandemic. In early October, I decided to escape my quarantine and drive across the country - a one way journey of nearly 1,700 miles.

With COVID-19 raging, safety was paramount. This wasn't a social road trip where I stopped along the way to visit friends and family. I was careful to limit interaction with people. I traveled solo. I packed a large cooler stocked full of food to limit the need to dine out. And, at each day's end, I walked into my hotel room with a can of Lysol disinfectant spray a' blazin'!

While I had minimal interaction with living people during the journey, I did indulge myself in family history. My roundtrip covered over 4,400 miles, traversed 13 states, and included stops at 22 cemeteries where I visited the graves of more than 70 ancestors and collateral kinfolk.

The trip began with stops in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri [see Part I].

Prairie Pilgrimage 

Leaving the lush hills of Missouri behind, I steered west and deep into the plains. My maternal line is heavily rooted in the Kansas prairie. In fact, my mom's people were among the state's earliest settlers. Mostly farmers, they subsisted off the land that today holds their remains. 

In October 2014, following the death of my maternal grandmother, I took a road trip with my mother and aunt. We traced their ancestry across Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas, and Oklahoma with stops at a handful of cemeteries to pay our respects to those who came before us [see Family History on the Road Day One, Two, Three, Four, and Five]. 

During that trip, I logged my first visits to the graves of my Kansas ancestors. But, six years later, I wanted to visit again and put eyes on their markers. My first stop was the Edwardsville Cemetery just outside Kansas City. I arrived early in the morning. No one else was around. I parked the car, grabbed my artificial floral offering, and started wandering the grounds trying to recall where Sophronia (Rogers) Dornon, my fourth great-grandmother, was buried. 

As I trudged back and forth, scanning the names on the stone markers, a car pulled into the cemetery. The man behind the wheel drove slowly around the ringed perimeter road and stopped in the distance. His behavior struck me as suspicious and suddenly I felt very aware that I was alone in an isolated rural location. As luck would have it, I stumbled on Sophronia just as my spidey senses kicked in. I sank the flowers' plastic stem into the ground, assessed the condition of her stone - still split in half with her name facing skyward - and hoofed it back to the car to make my escape. 

Not far from Edwardsville is the small community of Rossville just outside Topeka. Rossville's cemetery is the final resting place for five of my direct ancestors, including third great-grandparents Edmond and Iva (Haworth) Hawks. Their markers, pictured below, are near my second great-grandfather John Lumpkins (son-in-law to the Hawks) who died on his 38th birthday after slipping on ice and suffering a traumatic brain injury.

 

Edmond and Iva (Haworth) Hawks pictured foreground
Their son-in-law, John Lumpkins, pictured at right in background

I was surprised to discover that John's headstone had been nudged off its concrete foundation and sat askew. In the distance, the caretakers were cutting the lawn with a driving lawnmower, cruising up and down the line of graves at a quick clip. Perhaps they bumped into the memorial. I grabbed the stone - heavier than I anticipated - and lifted it back into proper position. 

The eastern end of the cemetery gently slopes upward to a hilltop where John's parents, William and Phoebe (Howerton) Lumpkins, are both buried. My return trip would include a visit to the Kentucky cemeteries where their parents are buried (stay tuned for the conclusion to this series - Part III!).

William Lumpkins, left, and his wife, Phoebe (Howerton) Lumpkins, middle

Raised on Country Sunshine

Smack dab in the middle of the state is Plainville, the epicenter for my maternal history. The city cemetery is the final resting place for 11 of my ancestors - perhaps the largest number of my direct family buried in any single cemetery (at least in the United States). 

My maternal grandmother Marilyn passed away in October 2014. She's buried beside her parents and sister who pre-deceased her. Her headstone is engraved with lyrics from one of her favorite country songs: "Raised on country sunshine." As fate would have it, I was in Plainville on October 4th - the six-year anniversary of her passing. Before leaving town, I drove to the cemetery early in the morning when the sun was still burning the fog off the distant wheat fields, rolled the car windows down and blared her beloved Dottie West anthem - an avant garde tribute to the ancestor I knew and loved best.

Rocky Mountain High

Three hours later, I hit the Colorado state line, pulled over and snapped the obligatory welcome home selfie. Later that day, I was reunited with my family and headed up to Aspen to celebrate my birthday with my parents. The fresh Rocky Mountain air was rejuvenating (catching it on a day largely clear of nearby wildfires).

I have a handful of ancestors buried in Colorado, including my paternal grandfather, great-grandfather and second great-grandfather. All three, pictured below, are descendants of Thomas Kirk and his son Vachel - my paternal fifth and fourth great-grandfathers who are buried in Ohio. My return trip would take me to the missing link in this lineup of paternal ancestors - my third great-grandfather James Kirk who is buried in Iowa (again, keep an eye out for Part III).  

In total, I took five days to drive from DC to Colorado. Sure, I could have covered the ground more quickly, but when life hands you a pandemic that compels you to drive across country make the most of the experience and drive that extra hour (or two or three) to pay homage to those who made you you.

Stay tuned for part III of my family history road trip as I begin the return home through Nebraska, Iowa and into Kentucky coal country.

Ancestors Across the Heartland - A Family History Road Trip: Part I

"Hello, Ancestors," I said aloud as I stepped into each cemetery.

Clutching bouquets of artificial flowers like dousing rods, I channeled great-grandparents of varying generations to guide me to their graves. 

At every forebear's resting place, I plunged the plastic floral offering into the earth, laid my hand on their stone, and quietly pondered their life and the American history they helped shape. 

The visits were a spiritual communion. I kept vigil for the faintest acknowledgement of my presence. Amid my contemplations, my skin would tingle with goosebumps at a sudden shift in the wind rustling the leaves or the sun cutting through clouds to cast poignant rays on cue. Broken stillness felt intentional and imbued with significance as though my presence was a touchstone conjuring the ghosts of my predecessors.

Road Tripping During The Pandemic

A cross country road trip to visit family in Colorado - who I haven't seen in over a year due to the pandemic - afforded me a rare opportunity to visit my ancestors' graves. 

Typically, I fly home to visit family. The last - and only - time I drove the 1,665 miles between my parents' Rocky Mountain home and Washington, DC was in 2004 when I embarked on my two-year east coast plan (16 years ago!).

Mapping out my route, I decided to stop at a handful of cemeteries scattershot across the United States where my kinfolk rested eternally. As a moderately tech-savvy genealogist, I pinpointed their burials on Google Maps.   

Family Sleuther's ancestors' graves

Next, I plotted a circular path that allowed me to visit different sites on my way to and from Colorado (note: the yellow flower icons are graves I've not visited and purple flowers are graves that, as of this journey, I have visited).

Journeying Through Family History

The three-week trip was a dizzying whirlwind that traced my family's history across both paternal and maternal lines not to mention time zones. Thank goodness for mobile apps like Find A Grave and Ancestry that allowed me to find everyone and reacquaint myself with their life stories on the ground and in real-time.

The numbers alone underscore the sheer magnitude of the trip.

My journey began with a visit to the Beard-Green Cemetery in Licking County, Ohio. Although I've visited before, it still holds special meaning to me as the final resting place for my fifth great-grandparents Thomas and Sarah (Bonar) Kirk and their son, my fourth great-grandfather, Vachel Kirk. 

For me, the Kirks have favored research status (yes, genealogists get to have favorite ancestors!). My fondness stems from the fact that ten years ago I didn't even know that I was a Kirk. But I did the hard work to find the connection. Confronted with whispered family rumors, I sought out DNA tests that ultimately confirmed a non-paternity event. The years of dogged research that ensued carved my path directly to these people. I worked hard to surface this family history and I gladly honor it.

All three are buried in the northwest corner of the cemetery near the edge of a dense forest. A towering walnut tree juts out from the middle of the burials - a totem that beckons me to the epicenter (and brickwall) of my Kirk paternal ancestry. After paying my respects, I turned to leave just as the sun sliced through the early morning fog and cut a path directly to the northwest corner like the dawning summer solstice sunlight finding perfect alignment among the sarsens at Stonehenge. 

Beard-Green Cemetery. Licking County, Ohio.
Thomas & Sarah Kirk and their son Vachel Kirk

As I put the car into drive, I glanced back just in time to see a fox emerge and watch me make my departure. I next drove 170 miles west to Dunreith Cemetery in rural Indiana where two sets of fifth great-grandparents are buried: Thomas and Frances (Boatright) Johnson and Philip and Sylvia (maiden name unknown) Hall. Their children, Francis Johnson and Temperance Hall, would marry and become my fourth great-grandparents. Hint: they also scored a stop on the road trip (stay tuned)!

A strong wind propelled ominously dark clouds overhead and whipped a nearby cornfield into a fury. The unyielding gusts pushed me into the cemetery grounds, firmly guiding me to their graves. They were nicely situated together. I would soon learn to appreciate the convenience of quickly locating burials in these quaintly-sized cemeteries.

Dunreith Cemetery: Thomas and Frances Johnson (foreground)
and Philip and Sylvia Hall (background), marked with flowers

My next stop was the only point where I visited non-direct ancestors. The aforementioned Thomas and Sarah Kirk had 11 children who lived to adulthood. At least seven of them settled in Crawford County, Illinois. Five of those seven - all sons - were buried in the Kirk Cemetery just north of the town of Robinson and one, a daughter, in the nearby Oblong Cemetery.

Kirk Cemetery north of Robinson, Illinois

After an overnight in Illinois, I crossed the mighty Mississippi River and cruised toward central Missouri with my first stop in Rolla. Unlike the small country cemeteries in Indiana and Ohio where I quickly found my ancestors' graves, the Rolla Cemetery is a large sprawling landscape. There was no manned office and no directory of names to provide directions, so I was forced to drive along the paved paths, back and forth, studying the engraved names. While combing the grounds, three deer nonchalantly followed at a distance and serenely eyed my frantic search. If this was a Disney movie, I would have put them to work and had them help me locate my kinfolk. Alas, they paid me little attention and continued to make salad out of the lawn.

With the afternoon sun fast approaching and encroaching on the day's second cemetery visit, I was beginning to fear that I'd driven all this way and would have to abandon the mission without finding the graves for my second great-grandmother Jelina (Williams) O'Connor Trimble (she was married, a lot!) and her parents, my third great-grandparents, Johnson and Careline (Reed) Williams. My saving grace was finding email correspondence from 2013 with a Find A Grave volunteer who first discovered the graves and took photos. In his message, saint that he is, he provided the section and plot numbers. I quickly found the graves no thanks to my animal friends.

Johnson and Careline Williams, at left, and Jelina at right.

I unexpectedly spent more time in Rolla than I originally planned. Dusk was fast approaching and threatened my chance to visit my next stop - El Dorado Springs Cemetery in Missouri - 150 miles to the west. I generously applied the gas - in the safest measure possible - to ensure a timely arrival that salvaged as much of the day's remaining sunlight as possible. Pulling into the cemetery, my heart sank to discover it was another large sprawling affair. 

Loading up the Find A Grave app, I carefully studied the photographs of the headstone for Francis and Temperance (Hall) Johnson, my fourth great-grandparents (whose parents, mentioned above, are buried in Indiana's Dunreith Cemetery), that were uploaded by a volunteer. Paying close attention to nearby headstones, trees and even a distant house, I was able to pinpoint their marker just as the sun emitted its final rays for the day.

The Johnsons share a single stone with each name carved on either side.

Francis Johnson

Temperance "Tempy" (Hall) Johnson

I made it with the last dregs of light to spare. And what marvelous light it was; a shining capstone to my travels through America's heartland. But hundreds of miles still stood between me and home. 

Stay tuned for part II of my family history road trip as I journey through Kansas' plains to Colorado's mountains. The road and ancestors call me onward!